BG Drabbles
by arabellaesque
Summary: Shorter pieces that don't belong anywhere else and aren't long enough to justify being their own entry
1. Guilt

There was no honour in what he had to do.

The girl was fond of him. He knew it by her actions; by the way she stared at him when she thought he wasn't looking. By the way she would half-smile every time they conversed, no matter what the topic was. Even when he'd fought the magic compelling his every action, and bluntly asked her about her heritage…

She'd smiled at him. But that time it had been a sad smile.

They trusted him. They hadn't always, and with good reasons; some had openly shown suspicion, but she'd never allowed them to confront him about their concerns. _She_ trusted him, just as she trusted everyone she travelled with, and with time it had been enough for the others.

He didn't love her. He wasn't even fond of her, not in the way a man can become fond of a woman. No. He respected her, he… he _liked_ her well enough. He'd found out who she really was, and the mistaken assumptions he'd conceived at the height of his own personal misery were washed away. He'd been too hasty to blame, too reckless. It wasn't like him. It'd be the death of him.

But still her eyes would follow him, dropping to the ground almost shyly whenever he was fast enough to meet her gaze. She was young; so young. So young and naïve, just as he'd once been. But life had given him experience and anguish and hurt and pain. He could remember the bad so clearly, but why couldn't he remember the good?

Home was so far away. And family…? It was family that had brought him to these levels of despair, though through no fault of their own. Or had they? His sister had loved a madman, and the cost had been almost unbearable. Now _she_ loved a madman, for he knew he was certainly going mad, if not mad already; what would her cost be? Her life? Not if he could help it – and he could. But how…

There was no honourable way. He was trapped on a path he'd created alone, and he could blame no one else for it.

They weren't even friends though he tried his hardest to be the best companion he was able to be. It was hard. He was always driven by the arcane power that held him in a vice-like grip, and that power wished her no benevolence. But it wanted her alive and unharmed, so he could protect her. He could fight with her. He had fought with her. He wouldn't regret that.

But he'd also led her here, to this place; to this Asylum, where the inmates shared his madness. But none of them shared his guilt. None of them had surely acted so cruelly to those loyal to them; to those who had considered him more than a comrade on the road.

He couldn't meet her eyes, though he knew she was watching him. He wondered if she was still smiling. They'd come here for her sister, to rescue her and free her from the wizards. But they were wrong. There were no wizards left here, except for those who were already insane. He knew that. He'd known it for lifetime, or so it felt, but he'd been unable to do anything about it. It was part of the plan, just as his presence in their company had been part of the plan. He was there to ensure their arrival.

And he'd wanted them to arrive, at first. But then he'd met her and she'd been frankly open. By then, though, it was too late.

They huddled together in the vast hall, waiting for their guide to appear. The doors let in a chill; it was quiet. Too quiet for his liking. All was calm. The plan was going exactly as intended.

He briefly considered telling her, warning her of what was to come. A blistering pain seared through his mind, forcing him to close his eyes and clench his teeth, staggering slightly as he fought away the conspiring thoughts.

A few looks were directed at him. He looked away from them all quickly, he couldn't even pretend any more. They'd done nothing to him; Tamoko had disappeared, but that had been Anchev's fault. Blaming the guiltless had been a mistake; a convenient fix for his own remorse.

Something brushed against his hand. He tensed, his eyes looking over sideways to where she stood. She looked worried. Her fingers gently wrapped around his.

"Are you all right?"

He wasn't all right. He was in an impossible position and he couldn't even tell her that. He opened his mouth, ready to say a few words, but small stabs of pain returned, warningly. He sighed.

"I have been better, my friend" he managed at last, forcing himself to smile. She smiled in return; her cheeks pinked slightly.

He'd never hated himself more than he did right then.


	2. Romance

The elf lazed back in the chair and turned to face the pretty young girl cuddling up to his left arm.

"And what's your name?" he drawled, smiling widely to her. She giggled under his gaze, long lashes fluttering over her bright blue eyes.

"Astrid," she squeaked, burying her face into his shoulder as she continued to titter deliriously. He gave her a bemused look for a few moments, and then turned his head to the right. Another girl, with long black hair and large brown eyes, was sitting there, her body pressed up against his side as her hands ran through his unruly hair.

"And you, my dark desire," he murmured, floundering slightly as he became lost in her intense gaze. "What do they call you?"

"Conchita," she purred, her eyelids batting seductively to reveal skin coloured with dusty hues of blue. He licked his lips subconsciously, and was still grinning as he leaned forward to the table before him and picked up the large goblet of wine that had been placed there by a very shapely serving girl, with hair the colour of sunsets…

"To… Lady Luck," he said, raising his glass to the girls on each of his arms. He drank deeply; the rich flavour washing over his palate and warming him inside with a fiery glow. He sighed appreciatively, regarding the remaining liquid with an almost reverential respect, before placing the vessel back on the table and settling back into his seat, an arm around each of his attentive companions.

Life was good, there was no doubt about it. Recent adventures had seen the elf's riches grow beyond anything he'd experienced before, and now he was reaping the rewards. In the far corner of the small tavern, a few minstrels had convened to tune their instruments and prepare for the party later that evening. It was to be in his honour – the village he'd stumbled into barely able to contain their awe when they realised who he was.

He had no intention of sticking around, but a few nights wouldn't hurt. His heart was set on returning to the city. Baldur's Gate was where he was truly happy, and Hanali herself knew why. The human women in the Gate were like none other; feisty, independent, strong – but with the right words, and a few gentle caresses, they'd fall under his spell, and he'd give them the romance of their lives for a short while.

It never lasted, though. His appreciation of beauty in all places was often the cause of the jealousy that'd appear in his partners, and then the magic would fade. He'd become tired with the arguments and the sulking, and bored without the thrill of a new chase. Eventually the woman would turn to him, offering an ultimatum; and he would always accept it, leaving with sorrow, but no regrets.

Only a few had parted with him with no bitterness involved. They were like him; they understood that love was not something to solely dependent on, or fixed to any one thing at a time. They, too, appreciated the highs of courtship, the beginnings of sweet, sweet intimacy. And rather than try and change him, they'd been the few who had kissed him one morning and wished him well with his travels.

They'd been the ones he'd returned to on occasion. They were the ones he was fondest of. The leader of his last band; she'd been a beauty to behold, and a willing visitor to his bedroll during the cold nights camped under the stars.

But she'd thought that she could change him, and that she'd be all he ever wanted or needed. She thought he'd pledge himself to her, that the danger of their course would steer him into her arms for then, and forever more. But that simply wasn't how it worked, and what had started as intensely emotional encounters quickly ended with resentment and tears.

His life was adventure, or nothing; the blandness of a secure home in a backwater town, running a business that neither inspired nor interested him – this was what his nightmares were made of. And after their impressive success against the mercantile consortium that had caused so many problems along the Sword Coast, he knew it was what she would seek. Her heritage had proven to be… different, to any other that he'd known. She wanted to slip away, to lose herself in the world and have no attention drawn to what she was.

Even if he'd loved her enough to stay by her side, he wouldn't have been able to accept that as his fate. Their paths were always due to separate. Whatever Hanali had in store for him, it was not the role of consort to a Bhaalspawn. He doubted very much if it would ever involve properly settling down into what others saw as 'normality'.

He shook his head slightly. He couldn't foresee a day when such an idea would make much sense to him. There were so many places to see – so many women to see! That many had already pledged themselves to a partner while still in their prime was tragedy enough in his world. He had no plans to do likewise, and he had many years to continue his ways. After all, life was too short to have regrets.


End file.
